She Hates Me
by SecretsofPandora
Summary: Vergil, Dante, Lady. a love triangle Just for fun. Wrote before DMC3 came out. A dark romantic read with lots of poetic fight scenes and visual action. DxL final pairing. Complete.
1. She Hates Me: After the Fall

A_/N: _

_I've decided to revamp this and take out the cuss words. You're right, Kowaiki, I don't think it needs cuss words so I shall take it out. Hope it's a much better read then. _

* * *

_Midnight Haunting_

_Dark embers of flame e__rupting between brothers_

_for one love, lit by the moon's __earthly glow, _

_and in our fight, she shall choose __the one she hates more against_

_her will..._

* * *

Dante looked towards the walls of his not so sterile barren home. The lack of furniture, the meager surroundings, and the chipped walls looked pretty damn good to him right now; all he needed was some furniture. It was a good thing he had this left over from his inheritance, or what was left of the Sparda wealth.

He laughed silently to himself, thinking of how he could just blow the day off and take in a few beers, or indulge in some fire whiskey and read a few girly magazines. He felt a self-satisfied smug coming on as he looked towards the jukebox in the corner— damned thing was well worth it. He'd buy more with the little amount he was always surprising himself to earn. It wasn't as if his customers were cheap, (indeed) truth was, and there weren't any customers yet.

He didn't mind, though. It was all alright, because he could only think of _her_—she who invaded his thoughts, when no woman should. He felt like listening to some music, something that would remind him of her…

That damned brother of his… always getting the girls he wanted. Maybe it was the fault of being too forward to blame, too certain and cocksure of himself, but despite being overtly arrogant, he still managed to receive many offers of unspoken promises from the more studious females. To the bolder ones girls, those who couldn't contain their mutual respect for his guns, he showed the devil inside of him; it was what he's made of, after all.

_That's right_, he thought, smirking to himself; his big bad guns were the prize they ooh'd and aahh'd at. Kind of delighting in a way, the fact that they were after more than just his guns. _They were after the devil inside him. _

Lifting them in his deft fingers, they felt light in his hand; he evaluated, balanced them as if they were precious nuggets to be weighed. These were, if nothing else, quite the interesting piece of conversation for diverting the attentions of the opposite sex. Well, that and his bike… or his red leather… whichever worked, really. He wasn't about to balk about the leather if the girls liked it on him. And what's with women and their love of leather, anyway? Was it the smell? The feel of it? He liked to watch them glide their fingers on his pants, coming dangerously close to the part they always screamed in the dark about.

If only he could just get his mind off of that_ particular _woman. Why she refused his advances and embraced those of his brother (it) was laughable! His fucking brother for Christ's sake, the one who joyously took in the evil that we Spardas were brought up to fight against. The evil our father had taught us to fight, by going against it, so that he could have the life he wanted with his wife and his sons. The evil our mother protected us from. The same she, this little girl herself, was supposedly fighting against.

He sat there numb, after having watched her holding Vergil in her arms. He couldn't forget the look on his brother's face, as those glacial eyes of his looked at him from over her shoulders; he held on to her as if could possess her. As if she were his trophy. Dante grimaced, thinking of how readily angry he felt towards his brother, ready to plummet his fists into the face that looked like his.

Did she even fucking care? Hell, it hadn't even been a long courtship by any means. _Just a few short chats, maybe something more than just one-liners between us, a joke shared here and there. I hoped I could catch her interest with my wit. So much for that_, he thought bitterly and continued to drink what was left of his whiskey.

_Crap--that stuff burned and singed down good, like hot honey with a sharp tang_. He made a satisfied noise of smacking his lips together and opened his mouth wide with an almost yawn, which brought a noisey _ahhh_ from him, echoing in the room. Allowing his arms to stretch out, he shook his head, the silver locks allowing them to tangle around his head; they fell back into place as if they rightly wanted to belong in the front of his pretty sharp baby blues. He blew them away from his face and looked over at the jukebox again.

Thinking about her wasn't any good, but his thoughts still strayed like an attention deficit. _She's with Vergil, probably holding him_, he thought, and his hand tightened around the whiskey bottle. Vergil more than likely was roving his hands around her body, touching her face…

He felt his skin rip as blood smeared on the shattered glass that was once his empty bottle. Dante sighed and decided to do what he's been dying to do: kick his brother's ass. It would always be number one in his list, but at the moment, it just wasn't possible- not with _her_ there with him. He wouldn't bear watch that famous Vergil grin, the one adorning his brother's face, looking just like a savage goat. Yeah, that's the word. A wicked goatling, looking exactly like the face of an impious, smirking satire goat, leering from ear to ear. Hah. Damn him. Vergil would allow himself the delicious heady scent of her hair, and he certainly wouldn't hesitate to show him exactly what _he_ himself got and what he didn't. No… no need to witness those similar glinting blue eyes taunting back at him, silently saying, _nyah nyah_.

Later on, after his hunger satiated from the pizza, he thought about the other thing that was burning in his mind: he had to exorcise her from his mind.

He walked towards his jukebox, as if it were a prize to be coveted, casually, languidly, leisurely, too cocksure of himself, his form- fitting jeans snugly moving over his ass as he walked, thus deeming his usual signature. Ironically, that was the very reason she had chosen his goddamn brother.

Why on earth would she choose Vergil over him, he couldn't for the life of him understand. What did she see in his brother, anyway? He was a certifiable prig, truth be told. Vergil found everything around him a bore-life was a bore, being good was a bore. He'd probably find _her_ a bore in the end, too, and then he would throw her away like she was yesterday's news.

_So why would_ _she_, the question burned in his mind, _be insane enough to allow him_ _into her arms like that while I stood there dumbly, staring at them with must have been hatred in my eyes_.

He felt the sting of rejection, hard as a smack of cement slammed into his head, when he was fighting with Vergil; unresolved hatred and jealousy, brimming with over the top angst, what was always there between them. He could handle getting beat, and most definitely revel in the glory of whooping his ass, but of all the times of their sibling rivalry, he was stunned more than anything to see the woman he denied himself to love, denied himself to want, get taken away from him like that.

Right into the arms of his twin _brother._

He cursed silently and closed his eyes, rubbed them with his fingers, wishing there was another bottle sitting around. His hand already healed from the cut glass. The jukebox was daring him to press the number that reminded him of her-of their relationship, of what their situation was at the moment, and those fingers hovered over a couple of sappy love songs he contemplated in removing; he didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him and why they were there. He wasn't about to press any of them, either. He was in no way the sentimental type to go moaning over losses, over a woman who had never really belonged to him. Plus, the fact that there were too many words with love in them and seriously, was that what he felt about her? Leaning over the jukebox, he saw the lights reflected his mood; the neon blue shimmered and flashed against the hard planes of his face, his eyes scanning quickly over the array of songs. He found the one he was looking for, the one he never used, or better say, never needed to use before. The finger pressed on the button, and the red lights came on, along with a beat from the fancy box.

He usually danced a different kind of beat when he took down a marionette or two, maybe a stupid demon in his wake would be appropriate right now, take them on backwards and show off a bit. But now he thought he could instead make a fucking fool of himself and do a little dance, without demons, without marionettes, without sin scissors, shadow kitties…_yeah, I've got your_ _vittles right here, pussies_, he laughed to himself. Let's not forget _nobody_s._ Nobodys_ would be a whole lotta fun, especially in the mood he was at the moment.

Moving his head up and down, he tapped his boot on the floorboards; they correlated with the beat and then his body began the steady beat of following the rest of the rhythm. He wasn't a dancer really, and if Vergil would tell anyone, he'd give him another black eye, just to match the other one he'd also give him in the future.

**_She _**really**_ hates me…._**

Dante felt a little better as he moved to the number, climbing crescendo, and singing to the tune.

The vibration of the music started to thump loudly in the room; even his barren walls, with the few trophies hung there, moved to the beat, banging against the wood planes of the partition.

He felt he could do one of those backward moonwalks, and allowed himself to slide backwards, his boots scraping against the floorboards, creating a noisy shuffle that didn't quite match the tune, but he didn't give a shit if he looked cool or down right stupid. He shook his head up and down while he grabbed his guitar from the corner of the room, deciding against the drums for now. Picking up on the string, his deft fingers held on to the same tempo.

His silver locks, now wet, flew up and down from the gravity, as he shook his head to the tempo of the beat, strumming to his guitar. The song was ending and he yelled out, _she hates me! _His expression wrinkled in a fashion of a super rock star, finding the strings to push and the fingers to move to the sound. He had a good ear for music, much better than Vergil. Another thing that made him much more _eligible_. Well to hell with her, then.

Plenty of fish in the sea, right?

How long the knock on the door went on, he did not know. Maybe he had disturbed the neighbors, he thought, his brows coming together at the prospect of having to deal with do-gooder neighbors. Didn't they know he was here to save their asses?

_Didn't matter_. Still, he thought about how he moved into this part of the neighborhood so that he wouldn't have to bother with shit like that, and now, he'd have to make his polite excuses. Stopping short from pushing his slightly wet hair back, so as to avoid looking like his brother, he opened the door too fast, expecting to stand before his angry neighbors, or worse, have cops at his door because of the noise. Disturbance of the peace, they'd say. Yeah, right… he had glanced at the clock on the wall before and saw that it was near midnight. Did everyone go to bed at ten, then?

He grabbed a towel from the back of a chair; he hardly broke a sweat, really, even after several missions of fights, not one drop. Maybe it was because it was a very hot summer evening, or the lack of ventilation in his home. Or maybe, it was because of the feeling of his inner emotions spilling out…whatever… it didn't make it any more surprising to see her there, standing at the doorway, not lounging or anything, nor folding her arms as expected. She just stared at him, with an open nakedness that irritated him to the depths of his soul.

His thoughts went completely devoid, as if they fled like the rest of his wits.

He didn't ask what had happened between her and Vergil. They looked at each other from across the small distance that separated them. The pupils of her eyes dilated, contracting from the harsh light coming from the inside. Behind her, the darkness engulfed, making the backdrop of her hair blend in. She stared at him with those strange and cat-like, different colored eyes, daring him, challenging him to say something, anything. But his usual cocky attitude and mouth had apparently flown away after his song and dance.

After what had seemed an eternity, he slowly stepped aside, not moving his eyes away from hers, allowing her to step over the threshold, catching a whiff of her sweet scent as she passed precariously close to him. He closed his eyes momentarily and pushed the door closed with a loud creak.

He wouldn't dare ask.

Not now.

She turned around, looking at him with intensity, then did what he expected her to do-she folded her arms across her white blouse, permitting him a view of the stretch of the loveliness of her breasts, now pushed, defying against their usual fullness, accentuated by the tightness of the cotton material. His eyes lingered there for a moment until they flew back to her steady eyes.

No way would he dare say a word; he waited for her to say something. The sounds of their heavy breathing in the near empty room became notably louder. There was an excuse for his heavy breathing, but what of hers?

Then she came at him like a tumultuous whirlwind.

"You jerk!" she yelled, a furious vision of an avenging dark earthly angel, beating her small fists into his chest. She plummeted her strength and threw her accusative words at him, her white, even teeth bared, "Why didn't you fight for me? Would you rather have your brother have all the glory? You're such a fool! Wimp! Why do you always let your brother beat you like that? Don't you ever care for anything?"

Dante stared dumbfounded at first, then a slow, easy, wide grin immediately replaced his surprise. For the life of him, he'd never understand women. But instead of trying to understand, he allowed himself to feel, so he let her vent her frustrations. When his chest felt like a drum beating, his strong arms enclosed around her smaller frame, enveloping her as she sobbed into the curve of his shoulder. It was his turn to smell her, bury himself in the cloud of dark hair while she gave a small whimper.

"Damn you all to hell, Dante Sparda."

_Oh yeah_, he thought with a satisfied grin, his spirits lifted. _She hates me alright_


	2. Vergil: Beloved Brother, Beforehand

* * *

_**What happened before**_

Vergil: Beloved brother

* * *

He stood there, atop the marble stones of the steps that led to the labyrinth, daring his younger sibling to take the bait. And why wouldn't he? The same blood ran in their veins, and Dante, such a sucker for rescuing damsels in distress would come running. _That's right, I see you, _Vergil thought with satisfying amusement. His eyes sparkled, took on a brighter hue, revealing the hard planes of his face. Emotions churned inside him as he kept a close grip on the handle of his wielded sword. Never antsy; cold emotions kept him in check, even as his own body wanted to move in an agitated state of anxious anticipation. Instead he called out into the riotous winds, throwing down the verbal goading, 

"Come on, Dante, that's it my _blood_ brother, TAKE ME ON!"

His voice, resonating loudly in the swirling mass of dark, choking ambiance, carried with it in the storms, the promise of a good fight, a challenge that would still the voices of mad pandemonium of demons below. Sibling rivalries was what, even in the bible have been stressed and excited the minds of the common people, when finally in the end the tragedy that followed would teach us a lesson, a lesson well worth earned, for us poor souls who have but to watch two glorious beings, endowed with power and might that were blessed by the gods.

It wasn't long before Dante, just finishing up a couple swipes and swings, deposited a demon into a trash bin, slamming down the lid with a reverberating noise, and the demon, now in pieces, tried valiantly to get out of his predicament. Dante chuckled with a twisted amusement,

"Damned pieces of trash. Don't they ever die? STAY THE HELL DOWN!" then in a quieter voice, "One of these days…." He grumbled, noting that the other demons were approaching him, _ever the dumbest creatures_, but bravery or plain stupidity stamped in their former hearts, began to shuffle back into the darkness, as if something had called them away. Dante jerked his head around, swinging his bloodied sword around, sniffed the air, and caught scent of his brother, and not long after, heard the challenge of the one he sought.

While the buildings crumbled in a disastrous and dangerous position, Dante stood his own ground, his body tensing ever more slightly at the promise of that challenge. _Always ready and willing when it concerns you, Vergil_. The red clad half devil moved around with a natural grace, even as his body breathed in and out with the promise of a party. He called back into the darkness of the pretentious wind around him,

"You ready to face me off, you piece of garbage? Come on then and show your face!" then with a taunting carefree laugh, "You having your little fun at my expense again? Glad I could always oblige! What would you do without me, Vergil?"

Dante gripped his long sword; his guns at his side, swinging along as he began the direction of his brother's carried voice. The creatures alongside of him, torn up by his professional handling of care, were discarded against the rotting buildings, covered in soot and blood. The swirling mass of atmospheric energy coming in the direction of his forward run sent his two strong legs at a fast running pace. The other creatures that had not the luck of meeting the front blade of his sword ran into shadows, ever crouching at a respectable distance. Just enough to witness the fight between Sparda brothers, so they can close in into the one who was left behind and with little hope in their diminutive brains, if they have any, wished that one of them, exhausted with the sapped energy from the exertion, give them that greater edge.

They had no love for either brother and it didn't matter to them if both of them fell off the face of the earth. It didn't matter to them if they hated each other with a strong emotion that even surpassed their own for humanity. What mattered was that they could if able, suck out the glorious power they both owned. What was gifted to the two Sparda brothers, they wished with longing, which they could only dare to hope and consume.

The energy moved around, and the winds of change gave him a movement of fingers that suggested that the party would be taking place above the broken crumbling city, up above the walls, and to the dark labyrinth above. Where his brother stood. Dante smirked, then called out into the winds again,

Is that where you're at, Vergil? What's the matter, my _beloved_ brother, you really afraid I'd actually beat your ass this time? Well now, no more games! Stop hiding behind your little parade of amoeba fiends. LET'S HAVE SOME REAL FUN!"

High above the stone steps, his more relaxed brother started his slow pace along the stones, measuring his steadied steps and his boots stopped at the edge of the topmost marbled cracked step and behind him, a more gentler voice spoke from the shadows, her face hidden,

"He's coming to get you, you know." She was more than sure that Vergil would get his just desserts. If she couldn't fight against the coldest half devil, the brother would certainly be more than obliging.

Vergil ignored her, only his glacial blue eyes slightly moved to her direction, and only because he refused to feel anything. He could only feel a slight tingling of admiration on her behalf due to her quick expertise of guns and ability to seek him out even as she stalked her way to his haven. She wanted him and wanted him in the way that had nothing to do with _love_. And truth to tell, she was feeling the heat of excitement in her breast at the challenge of these two. She was as highly charged as Vergil or Dante, and she wanted to witness it with all her might. The thought of it frightened her and she nearly questioned her own ability to feel a sort of twisted emotion that she felt between these two. What would happen if Vergil won? Before she could think of the following train of thought, the half devil in question turned to half face her, his glinting blue eyes glanced at her,

"If I win, I would ask something of you."

His words, like a caressed whisper made her feel guilty that she thought what she did and it was immediately replaced with an anger that she was violated again by his mind. She didn't know for sure if he read minds or even slightly but the feeling felt like a fraction of a mind rape. Her hands immediately rose to hold up the buttons of white strained blouse, as if they wouldn't hold up from the loud thumping of her heart beat.

Her chest, rising and falling, and the air around her felt ice cold creating a smoke, rising from her breath. The girl with the ebony hair narrowed her eyes in suspicion, then whispered, in a breathless sort of reply that she was immediately angered at the sound of it. Cursing her own lack of ability to hold up to this emotion that was swirling around her,

"What is it that you want?"

The blue jacket he wore blew in the wind, and they floated along those charged electrical winds as if they rode the air like a wave, revealing his strong back to her, and the sturdy, agile legs that were set apart. She allowed her eyes to wander there and wondered at her ability to keep under control. She allowed herself to feel the desire of hate instead, because these two men were her enemies.

"Dante wants to save you. That's why he's here. So in order for me to make the victory sweet...if I win, and I don't intend to lose, I want_ you_ to come into my arms and hold me. Out of your free will."

The lady in question lifted her chin, a sort of challenge and defiant expression crossed her softened features, but her voice, although feminine and sweet, held a sturdy, strong hold, "You're mad. Insane. Why would I do such a thing?"

"Because it makes the game ever so sweet. And what better reward,..." He continued in a caressing whisper, that felt as if it caressed her inside, and worser still, that his glacial eyes roamed her body as he continued, "...than to hold you in my arms. A sweet victory, the woman Dante wanted to save. To have and to hold."

"Ah, he's almost here," Vergil half smiled, and the expression nearly surprised her. She had never seen this brother smile and it disturbed her that it was actually quite nice to look at. Whatever she felt at the moment was something of a challenge, and if Dante won, she wouldn't have to worry about holding Vergil in her arms, even as her own body fought against that longing. If Vergil did indeed win, then she would have to now, wouldn't she? But that was all he would want and it didn't really upset her. But she was sure, she was dead sure that Dante would win. Because he was here to rescue her. She knew she didn't need rescuing, not in the least, not from the other demons; she was trained enough to take them on. But from Vergil, no, she could never get away from him even if she tried.

"I will do it."_ It was madness, yes, but she was willing to find out what he had in mind..._

The blue clad half devil bent his head to one side, a slight smile played on his lips,

"I look forward to it." He nodded slowly. A pleased expression on his face.

* * *


	3. The fight: Blessed and Cursed, the Sons ...

**The Fight: Blessed and Cursed, The Sons of Sparda**

In the far off distance, one could see the glitter of stars, fading in the horizon. The once magnificent sun taking a long dip into that line of where darkness and light come together, and the expectation of two immortals come mutually takes place._ She_ was witness to it and whether she is part of the plan or not, it mattered not. Their desires and focus were only for each other, taking complete domination over which was better than the other. At a camera angle, there seemed to be a moving gradation of a stroking yellow light that shimmied over the abandoned, decrepitude buildings. It touched the broken stones, rotted wood, and mossy grown hidden crevices with a slight stroke.

A Jester, on the other side of the gothic buildings; reaching high above the other dilapidated edifices-appeared to kiss the sky, and he walked in a chaotic sort of dance that made other demons disregard him. His face, full of laughter, as if he could keep laughing at his own poor jokes, shook his body in that trance-like-dance that could only be described as ludicrous, but if one gets close, it could mean their life.

Flying in a formation in a playground, the fire flies glided around the discarded bodies of demons and debris; their beady eyes flashed in and out, like those glittering on the verge of needing a new bulb. But they never flickered out. They can never flicker away when they're in the darkness. Deadly though they are, their stings could mean more than just blood sucking and electricity. They floated above the city's crumbling walls, the few of them, hovered in a school. They see the half devil from above, their beady eyes in multiple scores watched him greedily;-the man dressed in a red leather jacket, his chest exposed and toned from the exercise, coming at a fast paced, but instead of honing in on their delicious victim, they stopped still.

What made them prevent their rapacious nature, begs the issue of Vergil's own powers of exploitation and how far he had gone, if he had actually the influence to carry out mind manipulations. One could never really control demons, unless there were rules and normally, demons never follow rules. Unless, perhaps, there is something in it for them.

Above, among the ruins, the other brother in question, dressed in the blue colored garment that matched his soul, ice cold, but his blood burned with the guarantee of an excellent clash of strength and power. If there's one thing he's never disappointed about, it's the battle between him and his brother. Although he won't admit it to himself or to him, by feeding the fires of his brothers ego, it would be just as well that he'd rather tell him how much more skilled his own style was in comparison. It was not far from the truth. His own selfish agendas revolved around Dante, two opposites, so alike and so apart. But unlike his sibling, he was focused, more obsessive about his course. What did Dante have? His love for rock metal music, guns, drums and electric guitar, and oh yes, let's not forget, pretty girls, were in conclusion, a little pathetic to him. If the same blood ran in his veins, then why is it that he could forget all that that humanity is weak towards? While the other can indulge into the precarious indulgence of these senses that only serve to divert the attentions of what is really important?

His sword, which he gripped in the strength of his hand, had a leather wrapping, and at the end of the sword, sharp, pointed, carried with it the hidden power of the man wielding it. Emblazoned with different hues of blues, Vergil wore his satin-esque jacket over his broad shoulders, and the strength of the man under it apprehensive with a controlled tension. The snake like designs along side the lapels depict his own nature; smooth, twisted, and unpredictable. The facial expression he wore appeared masked, contemplative, and decisive.

The labyrinth behind the two figures above the mass destruction of defiled structures; waited with an impatient, controlled, bearing. Of the half empty gothic architecture, spiraling high above and below, the air tight and constricting around them, beckoned a kind of dark temptation that was not ignored by the young lady in the half shadows. She couldn't believe that her impetuous nature led her to agree on a preposterous arrangement. Sure, she believed naturally, that he would lose, right? The query was begging her to wonder why wouldn't he win? Why would he lose? And what was the deal with the saving the damsel scenario anyway? Her mind raced to the beginning, where she hunted Vergil down. It wasn't as if she found him by chance, it was by mere accident, or so she thought. If anything, there could be the question that he orchestrated the whole thing. It was something that she was awed about.

His genius at strategy and manipulation.

Where the other half devil, his more unnatural ability to be less controllable, yet honed, to a more finer sense of creative fighting style. As she had witness to see beforehand by viewing his methods, taking on a few demonic predators coming at Dante from her perch above the vestibule of chaotic maze. She didn't realize that Vergil watched her reaction as easily as he observed the way his brother had obviously taken on single handedly an array of demons. Did he even think those demons had a chance? In numbers, they thought by taking on the half devil, he'd let his guard down, and by the massive amount of numbers that grew, that came at him, it would wear him down.

It didn't.

This only enraged the young half devil. What only made the young woman even less sure about her feelings, was that, even as the labyrinth behind her had a feeling of absolute menacing power, it was there that perhaps the fight could take place. She wondered at that and her curious nature, ever so troublesome, took another glance behind her. What she saw was what everyone else who had the good eye to see: Standing high, a dark looming architectural monster, that faded in and out, invisible and transparent, one could see that unlike a maze, has no dead ends. It breathed like a person, and the wind itself is its air, its life and blood. There is only a single course, and while it does have bends and snakelike hoops, they say a person can get misplaced. And that you can't disappear, but she felt if unknowledgeable to its end, you can fade away. With a labyrinth you don't have to think, or scrutinize, or unravel a predicament.

This is something that she's been aware of. But otherwise, a more inexperienced individual would find that they would be intimidated at its height and depth. Usually, with a labyrinth you just have the conviction that the trail will direct you to where you need to be. Behind the labyrinth, as it faded in and out, there is barren wasteland that would deceptively show an individual a dead end.

"VERGIL!"

Dante's voice carried high from below, sending waves of his hatred and emotional turmoil towards the object of his desire, his fallen sibling. Vergil's eyes glittered and in answer came back to his brother,

"About time you got here. I was beginning to worry."

Dante ignored the lack of sentiment and couldn't make out his brother from his distance and without preamble, took a quick run up the steps, avoiding the broken, crumbling stones that would delay the outcome of their battle. It was only when he was able to get more than half way that he saw his brother walk slowly backwards, into the circle that they would eventually stand on.

Upon standing the last step to his destination, Dante held up this sword, pointing towards his opponent, his laughing voice carried in an echo, mocking his brother.

"I know you've been waiting for this all your life, Vergil. It is the only thing that you live for."

Vergil made a derisive snort, "You got that right. But I got to wonder why, since I know exactly how you fight."

They faced each other squarely, and then did their slow perusal of each other; both measuring the other even when they've probably done this a hundred times before. And only when they took a few steps that they stood still, holding their weapon at their sides, and Dante couldn't resist glancing at the other's only weapon. His mouth running a little faster than his wit could hold, "I guess I shouldn't expect a _choose your weapon_ kind of deal, huh."

The half devil in blue chuckled darkly, his satire smile mocked him back with a retort, "Do you need to ask? Why bother with mechanical weapons that need no skill to hone?" his body language relaxed, even as beneath the strength he was excited at the prospect of the fight. There was a sense of adrenaline that pumped through his veins and ignited the brilliance of his mind. Changing his mood as quickly as his unpredictable nature, stopping Dante with another glare,

"Wait. You believe I can't manage a mere weapon? Like those you have on you?" and lifted a silver brow at him.

"Did I say that?" Dante said, with his head cocked to one side, as if he were talking to a small child. Vergil never took that bait and held his strong chin with his free hand, then with a quick agility, turned to take the woman half hidden in the shadows, the girl; becoming painfully aware in the harsh neon night of their surroundings, came face to face with the red clad enemy.

"I'll indulge, this time, Dante, for you." His brother whispered behind the girl.

Dante drew his brows together, noted the way Vergil held her, his hand over her waist, held there in a kind of possessive grip. His brother pushed her without warning towards the other young man,

"There's your prince charming, little girl. If you want to go to him, you only need to do so. But not without a fight and he implies that I can't do it without those weapons you both use." Then laughed, "Why don't _you_ choose for me? From your own collection, naturally."

She was wondering at what game Vergil was playing at but if his teasing of this damsel deal already irked her more feminist thoughts, then she would refuse anything. But from her own violation, she willingly handed him two guns, the one that looked similar to Dantes. A heavy weapon that looked like a _magnum 45_, except it packs a whollop and the bullets are faster, intensely modified. A modernized version of its distant cousin. Although the girl's weapons were mainly handguns and a large rocket launcher, they were ignored.

Before she could step back to allow them to fight, a voice that sounded concerned, Dante called to her, "You alright?"

Why wouldn't she be? The rebellious thought struck her first and though confused, she nodded her head slowly, her eyes and his locked together in a kind of unspoken battle.

"Yes. But…"

"Well I hate to break up this little _heart-to-heart_, but I believe this has been way overdue."

Vergil wasn't fooling anyone, even with the slight irritation in his voice. It almost seemed as if he were jealous. It's not uncommon that brothers would be jealous, but from Vergil, the jealousy that centered around this girl was something very out of the ordinary. And Dante was quick to notice.

"Too bad you're not so popular with the ladies….._bro_. Maybe you need an attitude adjustment."

"On the contrary…"

Vergil slightly sneered, then without warning, he shot out, and the whip lash speed he possessed created a flash, and a more trained eye would see that he had pushed the girl away so as she wouldn't get hurt in the fray. But still, after sending a zing of bullets in the direction of his younger brother, Dante managed to grab hold of his own reflexes; moving away from the bullets, avoiding the whiz of shells passed through, enabling noises that sounded like a small new year's party. These shots rang out, ricocheting on the stony ground they hit, impacting, taking out chunks of debris, flying up in the air.

They hit the half devil with out pain, bouncing off their jackets. Dante took out his ice nun chucks and swung it over to his brother, who avoided the weapon. The speed in which Dante used the nun chucks whipped so fast they made an intense noise. The viewer could naturally see the formation of a butterfly and they flew at Vergil. Ice particles, like tiny blades swung in schools, sharp and fast, they created a silent noise. Instead of hitting his brother, Vergil struck the cemented, hard ground with style, smoothly rolling over, only to pick up his sword off the floor with one swift move. Abandoning the guns to pick up his blade; it didn't take long for Vergil to use up the bullets while Dante managed to avoid them with rapid impulse. Avoiding the bullets were not a problem for these two. It was getting close together that would make the more difficult termination.

It wasn't long.

It was Dante who made the first move, rushing into his brother with a vengeance, the long blade in his hand, and while Vergil held his ground; positioned up his own weapon to use block. The sound of swords clashing in that swirling atmosphere stung the girl's ears. She watched in avid fascination; a sort of excitement made her bite her lower lip. _What the hell is wrong with these two?_ They fought with such a fierceness, which made her eyes sting. Her breath caught in a pause, and didn't even know she was holding her breath for so long till she watched them push at each other, their swords scraping loudly, like a blacksmith at the blade; sparks of red shower flew out from the weapons. It hardly made a dent into their swords.

The vigor of their strength, so equally matched, held, CLANG! And held, until Vergil chuckled, his visage sparkled plainly in the mirror of the linear sword. "Do you _really_ want her that bad?"

With another quick movement, Dante swung the sword away, ZWINNGG! Then, promptly, in a downwards position, then up, SWOOSH! While Vergil blocked each pressure and with the self same agility, came back with the same force. Breathing from the intensity of their self hate, the younger grated out with false sincerity, "Not really. I _missed _my brother."

Vergil's next move, with his strength scraped the others blade upwards, swinging high and turning, their jackets creating a blazing cape in the wind, red and blue banners, flew up and down, with their silver smooth movements. The sound of thunder began to make their entrance from above and the girl made one quick look above at the creation of nature's dark energy in this place. Their blades met again, WHOOSH! CLANG! Vergil's voice rang out, melding with the thunder's voice, "Good, I thought for a moment you'd abandon me over _her_."

Dante gritted his teeth and with force, pushed with his might at his brother's side, while the other, avoiding the thrust, received a tear of his immaculate blue jacket.

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_Next chapter: Conclusion!_


	4. Final Chapter: The Labyrinth of Time

Inspired by DMC3 movie ©

**Last chapter: The Labyrinth of Time.**

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****

The sound of a loud tear, the fall of heavy breath, as acquiescent in the noisy background of the approaching thunder-melded together to present the older brother with a small damage to his person. Vergil's eyes slightly widened, his jaw clenched, and the wicked gleam sparkled in the sundown of their battle. It didn't take him a split second to come at his brother with surprising speed, slashing away at him, and it was Dante's turn to hold, CLANG! Deflect, shove back, SWOOSH! They repeatedly met; the sound of blades clashing like a loud collision, and obstructed the other's intense movements. Their boots scraping against the pavement, marking each skidding push and pull.

Below the depths of the chaos, demons of every form felt the intensity of the battle, and even the Jester, stopped, stood still; the bells on his person jingled, and the grin on his masked face widened. Mother Nature had made her entrance with the foreshadowing of a bolt of thunder that rumbled menacingly over the tumbling clouds. The winds sped at a quickened pace, turning over the clouds like black fibres of thickened thread.

Raindrops came in small amounts at first, and as each drop hit the ground, it sizzled and smoked up in a small slithery cloud, creating a halo around the brothers, as if the floors were burning from the heat of hells contact.

With a pull back, and a forward push, Vergil sent his brother to rear a little, giving him a small breadth of space to swing silver smooth; sliding the long sword below his brother's waist. The other, seeing it coming with his sharp blue darting eyes, moved gracefully aside, carefully dodging the blow. And again, their swords kissed and sung, omitting a hiss of tiny smouldering fires, which ripped from their sharpened edges.

The expertise in which Vergil possessed and the blue jacket that needed a little mending, gave him a little bit of edge. With this he jumped back expertly, avoided his brothers frontal attacks so he could go into the labyrinth. Dipping back into the shadowy entrance, he breathed out,

"What say we go into the _labyrinth of time_ and test our skills there, brother? Show me what you have learned?"

A small challenge and Dante glanced over at the girl and said,

"Keep to the side of the walls so you won't disappear." A fair warning to her. He must know too something of the _Labyrinth of time_ but did he know enough like his brother?

She eyed him with a tacit pledge and then without avail ran into the labyrinth.

The looming monster breathed with force, and it was said that this was called the Cretan type of Labyrinth, where it is connected to the myth of Minotaur and Theseus. It had a circular pattern, depicting that of a symbolic interpretation of never ending and of spirituality. There were invisible canals that led the boys into the intertwining dry trees, its colour; hotchpotch of reds and pale browns, like those of a dying summer and a full blown autumn. The paths of twists and turns were familiar to Vergil as he grinned menacingly towards his destination, with an eager brother behind. Dante didn't seem to have much trouble keeping up with his sibling and they jumped over several hedges that sharpened and protruded. The wind didn't make its way down the deeper paths of the enclosed undergrowth.

With the long blade in his hand, Vergil then stopped at the path where there seemed to be a cross point. This is the end point in which two roads would lead. The blue clad half devil lifted his sword towards the other, who had managed to avoid many possible deadly blows.

Their fight, which lasted quite a time, made the girl who followed them into the maze, stumble into various degrees of heights, tore the skies, and ripped the barriers. A dark rain fell in fast drizzles, and she had to push her wet hair back from her eyes, trying desperately to catch up to their speed. They had turned a corner, with Vergil falling over the edge at some point. Dante took the bait, and rushed in after him.

It was then that the fight had finally took a menacing step to its final outcome. She had to run to keep to see, her feet trying to catch up to her desperation. Water splashed up onto her naked legs, wetting the hard combat boots and sliding off it like a ducks back. When she turned the corner to see what had transpired, she saw Dante in time to take Vergil's sword into his own side. A sharp sound, like a deep cut of tearing flesh, echoed in the labyrinth. The architectural monster disappeared for a moment, revealing the vast emptiness of the wasteland before them. A vision of two men, one fallen, the other standing, bloodied, torn in varying degrees, and their sweat mingled with those of the pelting rain.

He had taken a fall, after his brother pushed into him the sword, and backing away from the intensity of the other's intended hate, Dante felt the shock of electricity that went through his body, it made him shiver. And he fell with an ungracious thump on the ground, his face now twisted in a muted anger, and in his ragged breath, spat out to this brother,

"Damn you, Vergil. You play pretty unfair. I should have known you'd stoop-…."

Vergil cut him off sharply, his glacial eyes pinning the girl that was watching the entire event.

"Spare me, Dante. I have something to show you while you're down there making yourself useful."

He had his one hand, bloodied now, with the sword still pointed at his brother, while the other lifted towards her, and said in a whisper,

"Do I need to ask?"

The girl paused momentarily, knowing in her heart of hearts that Vergil did indeed play unfair but then again, they were so nearly matched. They would have went on and on until, until they would exhaust themselves to tomorrow. She supposed by Vergil's deception, this would keep Dante down, a little. But she was that small bit hesitant….because she thought if Dante wanted to have her, he'd still fight, despite the fact that his own brother had manipulated situations.

It wasn't long really, for her to move out of her own free will, he said, out_ of your free will_. Her legs felt like they were walking on air, towards the half devil whose eyes challenged her; they were demanding but in it, hidden behind the mask of self hatred, a desire.

She didn't know how long or how it happened, but it did, and her arms enclosed around him in a hold. He had, the moment she stepped into his circle taken her into his with a severity that surprised her. She did not know the look he gave his brother, laying there, blood soaking his sides, merging with his own jacket.

Her eyes stung as she knew what she had done and unbeknownst, Vergil's sinister smile goaded his brother. Dante had stood up, balled up his fists, witnessing the action and she felt, the older brother's loud whisper in her ear, dipping his face in her hair,

"_You're mine_."

Even after Dante departed, they stood there together, as if captured in a timeless glass, held together by Vergil's strong hold, his hands dipping in the back of her hair, while the other held the small of her back, a slow stroking, and downward pause at the topmost curve of her buttocks. She, with her lips half parted, breathed a little harder for her own sanity. Her eyes flew boldly up to his, to find to her disquieting feelings, his glacial eyes boring into her own. He could anytime; extract himself from her, but it seemed as if he too could not understand why they stood there atop the aftermath of the labyrinth's darkened glow.

The rain had slowly stopped, and they were wet to the skin with that sensation. Her dark eyelashes glistened with fresh tears of the last drops of rain.

Then without notice, his eyes once alight with cold lucidity and a dark hidden passion, was immediately replaced with a burning anger. Vergil's voice was harsh, demanding, as he replied,

"Maybe I really should take my reward for keeping your part of the deal. And actually thank you as deemed fit."

Before she could go against this, he lowered his head, and seized her lips in a hard kiss. He turned her head with his strong hand, so that he could dip his tongue deeper into her open mouth. Her mind flew to the audacity of his actions, but did not move away so soon. For despite wanting to go to Dante and leave this other behind, she allowed him to give her _his _reward to her.

He was rough, but in an odd sense, it was exhilarating and left her breathless, and her senses, though befuddled, also wanted the _other one._ In the heat of the moment, this is what mattered, because they were caught up in a changeless moment, like the timeless glass. Her hands, which were around him earlier, had in a protective way went up against his chest, as though pushing him away.

It was an involuntary movement when she had seen his smouldering anger. His muscles had tautened and while she was unresponsive, it wasn't long before her own tongue met his, matching, taking as much as he would give her. His glacial eyes flew open in surprise and with an effort, jerked his silver head back, unable to move much further than an inch from her pale pink bruised lips. The harshness of his voice, ragged, whispered with a kind of agonized longing, "Fuck. Damn." And a string of curses followed. Coming from Dante, it seemed suitable, but from Vergil, it seemed to make him less elegant and more like his brother.

She was surprised as he pushed her away, the planes of his angular face hardened, and deep timbre of his voice grated out, "You can go now to your _Dante_. That's what you wanted all along, even after you kept your word."

Vergil's body visibly tautened, and his fist clenched at the side, while the whites of his knuckles showed as he gripped the sword in the other hand. She backed away slightly, her fingers reached up at the topmost part of her chest, allowing his eyes to watch her quick movements. Then as if irritated by the action, turned quickly away, the partly ripped satin-esque blue sheen of his hardened jacket blowing in the dying wind. Without a backward glance, he grated out,

"Get going. You got your reward and mine. It was an amusing little party."

Anger singed right through her and she retorted, "Of all the arrogant!"

His hand waved in a movement to still her voice, "Spare me the melodramatics."

Walking further away from her, back turned, his voice sounded frayed,

"You better ease his wounded ego, little girl."

The words felt like a cold splash of water and it did her good. It plainly made her see that her stupid reaction to the deal was due to a bad case of hormonal alteration. And _weakness_ on her part. How could she allow him to take anymore than what was the deal? If only Dante had fought him even after she went into Vergil's arms. Her own violation of the deal was that she thought Dante would take a different kind of bait.

Angry at both of them, a kind of infuriating rage ripped through her and on impulse, she threw at him a large army knife, or razor edged dagger.. It glittered as it flew in the wind, cutting through barriers of sound. Vergil was quicker. His hand snaked out and stopped the action of the blade. Those silvery reflexes infuriated her even more, but instead of a battle, turned and stomped in the direction of the where the long departed brother went off to.

Vergil never even took a backward glance as he went back into the labyrinth.

_Her token blade tucked securely in the azure folds of his jacket._

**Current time: from first chapter:**

* * *

He held her until she could vent all her spent tears. Dante didn't really understand why girls had to cry, really. He remembered how his own mother cried intensely; those tears of hers shook him deeper than anything he'd known. It was the one thing; besides the amulet, his brother and himself owned, would keep in memory to the beloved mother they once knew.

When at last she stood back, wiping the tears with the back of her left hand, did she boldly looked up to him. Dante's lips curled at the corners, showing his cocksure grin, and softly, a little husky for his liking, replied,

"Want to see something?"

Apprehensive, her own riotous feelings came at a audacious point. She got here, all on her own, leaving the other brother. When in fact, many moments before, if not sooner, a realization shook her with shaking clarity; _that_ she was in love with both brothers. The feeling annoyed her because it presumed that she was wishy-washy, indecisive and easily swayed. But it was more than that. It was because, …._because they were more alike_. Like two halves of a whole. Without the other, it wouldn't be complete

_Can anyone really blame her?_

Dante led her to the upstairs balcony, and while at first, her mind thought immediately of perverted thoughts, she wasn't sure she was ready for this. But she was wrong, for as his hand gripped hers lovingly, he walked her up the tight passage staircase leading to the terrace above. They walked to the edge, where they could see the sky, vast and eerily beautiful in the darkest night.

He looked down at her through the silver strands that fell from his eyes, half smiled and said,

"Just wait a moment."

He then stood behind her, could smell the jasmine in the evening air, and most of all, her scent; feminine and strong. With his right arm over the side of her shoulders, he pointed towards that looming ancient colossal, speaking to her in hushed tones, feeling very optimistic for the first time in his life,

"Look you there," when at last she could find the direction to his guidance, "I must tell you about that place where we were at. It is important. And there is a reason why Vergil led us there."

The dark clouds above began to clear, making way for the cold stillness of the blue-black night. One of the lesser stars, a dimmer nova, distantly began to fade away. Another began its trek towards a downward spin, to the labyrinth. When that bright nova touched the object of its destination, the skies illuminated in a collage of colors, creating a noiseless exhibition of short lived explosives.

"You see, there is the _labyrinth of time_ before us; its power is changeable, but it will always lead me to you. Even after death. Time is never ending there, and the darkness is as beautiful as the brightest day."

It was then that she remembered Vergil then. Because he was there. Somewhere. _Alone_. A slight pain tugged at her heart. Only to turn into Dante's arms, her unshed tears sparkled, and finally sighed a ragged relief.

She had made the choice and was glad. She cuddled deeper into his arms and said, "My real name is Mary by the way."

"I know." then he chuckled in her ear, "I just love to call you Lady."

_**End..**_


End file.
